Of Milk, Detective Inspectors and Cigarettes
by TheApple-WritesStuff
Summary: "No, Sherlock it's for your own go—" John had been cut off by Sherlock brushing his lips against John's. This had made John quite startled as it only lasted a second before Sherlock darted around him, snatching the cigarettes out the small box, quickly fumbling to get one out. - Johnlock rated T just in case -


**This is my first Johnlock, I'm more worried about if I got Sherlock's personality right . Oh well.**

* * *

"Sherlock I'm ba—"

"Did you get the milk, because we ran out approximately three minutes ago." Sherlock said from the kitchen, where he was experimenting, again.

He had been waiting for John to get back, he felt extremely lonely when John wasn't around, he was glad to have him. And now, he was starting to develop something for the army doctor, he smirked to himself.

John sighed, placing the groceries wherever there was space. "No, Sherlock I didn't." He said. "Why didn't you?" Sherlock looked up from his microscope and studied John, glorious John.

_He frustrated of the self-serve machines again, because he's got most his weight on his right foot._

_He's going out tomorrow night, that's why he's wearing the same pants as yesterday, as so to not get his other clean pair dirty. _This irritated Sherlock.

_He barely slept last night. Nightmares again._

_He hasn't blogged today, mainly because I haven't had a case for a week. Even he wants another case. _ Sherlock twitched slightly at that thought.

He had got all that from a glance.

"Because I didn't know the milk had run out."

"I texted you."

"I didn't get the text."

"I sent it though."

"It must have failed."

"Give me your phone John." Sherlock said, going back to study his specimen.

"No." John said, and Sherlock looked up, his eyes narrowing. He stood up, reaching behind John, grabbing his phone out of his back pocket, his hand slightly grazing John's butt. This made John tense up, his face going slightly different in colour.

Sherlock, not noticing, looked through John's phone, a bit longer than necessary, secretly going through his messages, being curious.

_Boring, boring, boring, he needs to pay his bill… boring, boring. _No milk text. But he saw the texts to that,_ girl_. He frowned at the thought, scowling. Why couldn't John just stay home with him?

He strode away, making sure to slip John's phone back where it came from, his back left pocket. He grabbed John's gun, which Sherlock had left on the table, before he got side tracked. He inspected it for a moment before shooting the wall yet again, making John dart into the living room immediately.

"Sherlock, what the hell!" He shouted over the noise. Sherlock turned around and smirked. "I'm bored." He said calmly. "And so are you." He said, staring directly at John.

John spluttered. "No!" He said, "I'm not bored at all."

"Why did Lestrade call you?" Sherlock asked, quite demanding. "Why is that any of your business?" John asked, frowning. "How do you— Why did you go through my messages?" He asked, exasperated.

Sherlock stepped forward. "Why. Did. Lestrade. Call. You." He growled through gritted teeth, towering over John. "If you _must_ know, he called bec—" John started but Sherlock cut him off, "Why?!" He snapped impatiently.

"If you'd let me get to that." John said, his eyebrows rising in exasperation. He was getting a little flustered at the closeness; Sherlock was really getting to him. Sherlock started tapping his foot impatiently on the ground, getting fidgety.

He knew he couldn't last long without his nicotine patches, and he wanted a cigarette very badly.

John sighed, making sure not to look Sherlock directly in the eye. "It was a missed call, if you must know, I was in the middle of—"

"You had another row with the self-serve." Sherlock said.

"Will you stop cutting me off?" John asked, getting quite annoyed. "No." Sherlock answered simply. Sherlock then walked forward, crashing into John, trying to get past as he spotted where John had hid them.

"Move," He said trying to get past John, but John knew what he had spotted, "No." He stated and Sherlock stopped walking. He looked down at John, who was almost pressed up against his chest. "Move." He said, a bit desperate.

"No, Sherlock it's for your own go—" John had been cut off by Sherlock brushing his lips against John's. This had made John quite startled as it only last a second before Sherlock darted around him, snatching the cigarettes out the small box, quickly fumbling to get one out.

Soon enough he was running backwards and forwards, trying to look for a lighter. He had tripped over the coffee table twice now, as John had counted, wait, a third time now.

John hadn't really thought of Sherlock like that, but after the kiss, if it could be called a kiss, he reconsidered his sexuality.

"I'm not gay." He said to himself, not really believing it, albeit wanting to. _And neither is Sherlock._ He thought, glancing over at Sherlock, who hadn't thought to look under the couch, as he had exclaimed.

He suddenly shot up, looking at John; he spotted the lighter in John's front pocket, judging by the shape and size of the bulge in his jacket. He moved quickly towards his flatmate, his hand diving into the front pocket, making John go slightly red. Sherlock locked eyes with John, smirking before he had finally grabbed hold of the lighter, after fumbling around, feeling John's chest.

He lit the cigarette, taking a long drag, sighing in relief, and sinking onto the couch, wrapping his dressing gown around him and spreading his legs across the length of the chair. It wasn't very long before Sherlock had smoked the entire cigarette, flicking the butt across the room.

John walked over and sat down in one of the other armchairs, cautiously looking at Sherlock. Sherlock stared back at him, finally letting the last puff of smoke out his mouth, making the room smell.

"Sherlock," John started.

"Why did I kiss you? Many reasons." Sherlock replied, making John sigh again. "Mainly because I wanted my cigarettes." He continued, standing up, and making his way over to John, who had also stood up to walk away. They stared at eachother for what seemed like years.

_Am I gay? I am? No... Yes?_

_No, John why would you, of all people be gay?_

_Because Sherlock, idiot._

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, noticing John having a conversation with himself._ He must think it's in his head. _John soon realised he said all of what he was thinking aloud and went bright red under Sherlock's gaze.

It had all happened in a blur, neither men knew who started it, but before they knew it, they were both in bed, in a tangle of limbs.

* * *

Lestrade had been trying to contact Sherlock all day, first calling his phone, but the lazy sod was an arm's length away, so he didn't answer it.

He then tried messaging him, but Sherlock was still being too lazy to reach over for it, assuming it was John.

Next he tried to get John, but _he_ didn't pick it up, being to busy arguing with the self-serve to notice.

So he decided to actually take a visit to 221B. It wasn't long before he arrived at the door. He knocked loudly on it, and within seconds, Mrs Hudson opened it. "Oh, dear." She said. "Hello." Lestrade said.

"The boys are upstairs." She said, stepping by to let him in. Lestrade nodded a thank you, before walking up the stairs, seeing the open door, quickly walked in.

"Sherlock!" He called out, but gained no response, only silence. He started walking around the flat, calling out for either Sherlock or John.

He spotted a pile of grocery bags, that hadn't been put away yet, a pack of cigarettes lying on the ground, and the butt of one. The place also stunk of smoke.

Lestrade sighed, looking around the flat twice, not noticing the small noises coming from Sherlock's bedroom.

"Bloody hell." He muttered, "Sherlock Holmes!" He shouted.

All he wanted was to give Sherlock a case.

* * *

"Shut up John." Sherlock whispered, clamping a hand over John's mouth. "Why would you care?!" John tried to say, but his voice was muffled. "Because," Sherlock said, "It's Lestrade." He thought for a moment, thinking how stupid he was to not look in the bedrooms.

"He probably has a case." He sounded excited now.

"You want to stop this now, for a case?!" John asked, very exasperated. Sherlock took his hand off John's mouth, and grinned, before kissing John full on the mouth. John kissed back happily, pressing into Sherlock, making the latter moan.

They were at it for a few more seconds before the door creaked open.

* * *

Lestrade decided to try Sherlock's room now, as he already tried John's.

"Sherlock, I hope to God you're decent." He muttered before opening the door.

"Oh God!" He exclaimed, covering his eyes.

"Lestrade!" Sherlock said happily, breaking away from John, who was very pink now.

"I have a case." Lestrade croaked, looking embarrassed. Sherlock sat up, stretching his arm out. "Well give it here." He said, looking quite smug. Lestrade swallowed before walking into the room, trying to navigate with his feet. He thought he felt Sherlock's (or John's) pants once and shuddered.

"Hurry up, you interrupted us." Sherlock said peacefully.

"Alright, alright." Lestrade said, taking another step and tripping over John's trousers, stumbling forward and grabbing onto the nearest thing, Sherlock's arm.

"Well?" Sherlock asked and Lestrade thrust the folders in Sherlock's hands. The latter stared at him, as if saying for him to leave. Lestrade opened an eye and shuddered, seeing that both Sherlock and John were bare of clothes.

It was going to take a while to get rid of that picture.

He got up and walked out as quickly as possible, walking out the flat.

John grinned. "People are absolutely going to talk now." He said.

"I just wanted my cigarettes."

"Okay, shut up now."

"I wish it was Anderson that walked in."

"Sher-"

"Did you get the mil-?"

"Sherlock! Just kiss me!"

* * *

**. Was it good? It was a crazy idea I thought of when I was in the car the other day.**

**Please review :)**


End file.
